


Who I Am

by SMITSJUSTAJAYREALLY



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Anxiety, Coming Out, F/M, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Internalized Aphobia, M/M, Referenced Aphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:29:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28620339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SMITSJUSTAJAYREALLY/pseuds/SMITSJUSTAJAYREALLY
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley spend an afternoon with an anxious Anathema, who has put off a very important conversation and needs advice.
Relationships: Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 46
Collections: Our Side Zine: Coming Out 2020





	Who I Am

**Author's Note:**

> This was my contribution for the OurSideZine Coming Out 2020. Each author was to share a coming out story which relates to them and who they are. Here’s mine. Hope you enjoy❤️
> 
>  **If my story looks familiar it’s because it probably is. I had a different AO3 account when I started writing. It got deleted for personal reasons and this new one started. All the fics from the old account got moved to here** ❤️💜💙🧡💚💛

It has been just over a year since the failed Armageddon and life has settled around them nicely. Aziraphale lounges in their cozy sitting room, newspaper in hand and listens to Crowley patter about in the kitchen.

The angel smiles to himself, warm and content in the shared domesticity they have found. In the past fourteen months his demon has taught himself to cook, even growing some of his own herbs in the property’s greenhouse along with the lovely foliage and flowers. Aziraphale has taken to the cleaning, dusting and organization of the household, although they each help the other when it comes to their domestic duties. All things are equal, they are equals.

Aziraphale and Crowley have both made the effort to keep in contact with the few human friends they have found. Shadwell and Tracy have settled into a beautiful cottage, not a fifteen minute walk from their own. Tracy meets with Azirapahle every Sunday after church for tea and conversation, alternating each week between homes.

They would visit the Them at Christmas, on birthdays and for important family events, arms full of treats and gifts for the children. Nothing untoward is suspected of the couple's presence, thanks to a notion placed in each of the parents' minds. As far as any of the parental units are concerned, Aziraphale and Crowley are old family friends.

Sweet Warlock continues to send letters to his former nanny and gardener of his life in America. In one of his most recent he expressed his happiness at their recent union, and that he hopes to visit them someday soon.

Anathema and Newton continue to reside in Jasmine Cottage. Five months prior, Anathema had given birth to their sweeet daughter Arilla. Aziraphale knows that travelling the two hours between their homes is no small feat with a young child in tow. This is why the coming knock to the front door is all the more surprising.

"It's ready, love." Crowley calls from the dining room. Aziraphale folds the newspaper and places it on the lamp stand near his chair, before joining is husband at the table.

"This looks absolutely scrumptious, my dear." Aziraphale slides out one of the polished wooden chairs for Crowley to sit, when a knock at the front entryway causes their pause.

Crowley looks up to the angel above him, his eyebrows raised in question. "Are we expecting anyone?"

Returning to the aforementioned list of domestic duties, one that is exclusively Aziraphale's is their social schedule. If left to Crowley, every day would be a new surprising adventure.

The angel pushes Crowley's chair in and places a kiss to his temple. "We are not. You start darling, I'll go see who it is and return as quickly as I am politely able."

"If it's a solicitor, bugger politeness." Crowley mumbles. "They need to be taught not to harass people. S'pecially not at mealtimes."

"Pish." Aziraphale admonishes with no real heat. "You stay put and avoid causing any problems."

In all actuality, Aziraphale is preparing a rather scathing speech to give whatever salesperson or religious fanatic may be standing at his door. Nothing rude mind you, but definitely a lecture on personal boundaries and the need to respect other's personal space. He isn't at all prepared to come face to face with the dark sad eyes and disheveled hair of the woman before him, a child wrapped securely in her arms.

"Anthema, my dear girl, whatever is the matter?" Aziraphale ushers her inside, reaching for young Arilla to lessen his friend’s burden. "Are the two of you alright?"

"Yes." She looks as though she's been crying, dark circles highlight her cheekbones. "No. Oh, I don't know."

"Come in, come in." Aziraphale gestures with his free hand for her to follow. "Crowley has just finished preparing breakfast, and you look frightfully peckish. Won't you join us?"

"Thank you." She sniffs. "I'd like that.

He leads her through the lounge, to the dining room. Crowley is seated with his back to the doorway, at the sound of the approaching footsteps he turns. "Who was it Ang-...?" Crowley pauses at the sight of their guests, the gold inking across his sclera. "Anathema? Arilla? What's wrong?"

The demon snaps his fingers, and an infant’s high chair appears beside the table. He hurries to take Arilla from Aziraphale, and proceeds to secure her into the seat.

"Won't you have a seat dear girl." Aziraphale pulls out the chair directly across from her child, and waves his hand in indication for her to sit. "I'll make you a plate and you can let us know how we might be able to help you."

"I'm not so sure you will be able to help me." Anathema rests her elbows on the table, her head in her hands. "But an unbiased ear would be nice."

"Well you've got four of 'em open and ready to receive whatever it is you need to get off your chest." Crowley pulls his chair beside Arilla's. A jar of applesauce and a bowl of dissolvable biscuits appear on the plastic tray. He smiles brightly at the child while spooning the contents of the jar and placing it to the cooing baby’s lips.

"I haven't been completely honest with Newt." Anathema spits the words in a rush, almost as if she's forcing herself to get the information out. "In fact, anytime I've ever been completely honest with any partner regarding what I'm about to tell you...well...."

She pauses again, staring down at her hands which have fallen onto the table. The infernal and ethereal beings go about finishing what they are doing, waiting until she is comfortable enough to continue. Aziraphale slides a plate of English breakfast before her, and the arrival of food seems to snap her out from under her spell. "Well, it's always been the deal breaker that runs them away. And dear ole Agnes made it worse considering the way she shoved us together."

"If you don't feel it's rude of me to ask, how did the two of you become an item?" Aziraphale settles into his usual seat at the head of the table.

"Agnes wrote this prophecy." Anathema shakes her head slowly, eyes focused on her plate. "Which in her flowery way said that Newt and I were to....." She looks up meeting Aziraphale's eyes, the corner of her nose curling upward. "You know.”

“I’m, I’m afraid I don’t know, sweet girl.“ Aziraphale’s brow draws down, he’s so deeply lost in the puzzle of all this that he’s actually forgotten his rather large plate of food. He swivels his head from Anathema to Crowley in search of the answer.

“Sex, Angel.” Crowley rolls his eyes, cleaning applesauce from Arilla’s chin with a rag. “They got together when the crazy old bat told them to have sex.“

“What an unconventional way to begin a relationship.“ Aziraphale blinks rapidly. The comment lacks any sort of judgment, instead it is laced with a curious surprise.

“Yeah, well a picnic and expensive dinner date was too fast for you, after knowing me for 5971 years.“ Crowley turns his head to smirk at Aziraphale affectionately.

The angel gives his demon and indignant pout, before returning his gaze to their guest. “So, should I be led to understand that Newton has no idea your first time to ummm” He audibly swallows attempting to find a polite word for the act. “Well, copulate, was just solely due to familial duty.”

“No, he knows.“ Anathema shoves a fork full of egg into her mouth. “Told him pretty soon after it happened.“

Aziraphale winces at her table manners, and Crowley stifles the urge to laugh. Crowley loves Americans, they’re just the appropriate level of uncouth for his liking. And Aziraphale is adorable, especially when he’s fighting the urge to reprimand someone for their poor manners.

“Then, young lady, do you not love him?“ Aziraphale’s eye twitches when Anathema wipes her mouth on the back of her hand. Rather than scold someone in a delicate emotional state, the angel settles on handing her a napkin.

“No.“ She swallows, placing her cutlery on her plate. “I mean, yes, I love him, so no that’s not what I’ve lied about.“

“Stop asking questions Angel.“ Crowley states in a singsong voice, as his attention is fully on the baby. “Just let her explain.“

“Very well.“ Aziraphale nods primly, cutting into his sausage. “Please, my dear, tell us at your pace.“

“OK, so.“ Anathema leans back in her chair, smoothing her hands along the lace of her pleated dress. “When I was young, you know, a teenager, I started to pick up on the fact that I’m different. I favor all gender identities equally, but very rarely found myself drawn to anyone who wasn’t a close friend.“

“Ah.” Aziraphale dabs at his lips with his own napkin. “So you’re demisexual and perhaps bi or pan?“

“I personally prefer pan, but I have no objections to being called bi.” She scratches behind her ear. “It’s the other, my level of sexuality, that my past partners seem to struggle with the most.“

“So, are you afraid Newt’s going to reject you?” Crowley miracles Arilla clean producing a set of plastic keys. He hands the toy to the child and finally turns his attention to his own breakfast. “When he finds out your level of sexual need doesn’t match his.”

“Honestly, I’m confused by it, so why shouldn’t he be?” Anathema throws her hands out in exasperation “For years I felt like a fraud. I mean, demisexual’s are supposed to want sex if they feel a strong emotional bond. Right?”

“No, not necessarily.” Crowley says his coffee mug on the table. “Demisexuals achieve arousal within the bounds of strong emotional attachment, but that doesn’t mean that bond turns them into a sex crazed maniac.”

“I’ve never been with anyone, who hasn’t felt my sexuality is a sort of defect.” Anathema picks at her fingernails, the corners of her dark eyes welling with tears. “I’d get lectures about foods or herbs to up my urges. Was told to go to a doctor, that I most likely had a hormonal problem.” She releases a shuddered breath, dropping her hands on to her lap. “They say I couldn’t truly be demisexual or gray-ace, because I enjoy reading of and writing romantic stories involving sex. And then I start to question myself. Does it make me a fraud that I don’t crave that physical intimacy, but adore it in written romance?”

“No.” Crowley stands and begins removing the empty plates from the table. “I love action films, find great pleasure in watching them. Doesn’t mean I want anyone shooting at me or trying to blow me up.“

“Yes, I most certainly agree.“ Aziraphale hurries to help his demon with the door to the kitchen. “The fact you enjoy something in media, doesn’t mean you want to partake in such an act in reality. The two things are completely exclusive of one another.“

“I suppose you’re right.“ The muscles in Anathema’s face relax. “I enjoy the emotional aspect of the act in writing, not the physical. That seems to be a difficult concept for others I’ve known to grasp.”

“I do have one question.“ Aziraphale unstraps Arilla from her seat. Lifting the drowsy child into his arms, he gestures for Anathema to follow him into the sitting room. “How is it the two of you have been together this long, and you’ve not yet discussed something so important?” His blue eyes look her over nervously. “Please tell me you’ve not been forcing yourself to....”

“Oh, no no.“ She settles onto the sofa and reaches for her child. “We had sex due to Agnes’ directive, and again the next morning.“ Anathema hugs the child against her chest as the little one drifts off to sleep. “Newt was so excited about it, and Agnes set me up for disaster honestly. It was a pretty shit move on her part.“

“I can’t say I disagree.” Aziraphale sinks into a large wing back chair across from his guest. “I’m extremely thankful to the old prophetess for her help in saving myself and Crowley. But to so callously place her great great great great granddaughter in that sort of situation is, well, despicable.“

“It was less than a month later I discovered I was pregnant. I used that as an excuse to get out of sex, and Newt so sweetly abstained.” Anathema glances up as Crowley enters the room. “But now, I’m healed enough that I fear I’m running out of excuses.“

“I’m going for a drive, Angel.” Crowley kneels beside Aziraphale’s chair. “Do you need anything while I’m in town.”

“Not a thing my dear, thank you for asking.” Aziraphale strokes a finger through flame red hair.

“Should be back in an hour Dove.” Crowley kisses his angel lovingly on the cheek before retrieving his keys from the glass bowl beside the door and exiting the cottage.

“You two are so sweet together.“ Anathema watches them dreamily.

“As are Newton and yourself.” Aziraphale turns his head from the doorway and back to meet Anathema’s eyes. “He’s so patient with you dear. If you explain everything to him, I’m sure he will understand.“

“But what if he wants more than I’m willing to give?“ Anathema’s voice begins to rise in pitch again, the baby in her arms whimpers. “Especially with the dishonest impression Agnes and I have given him.“

“Then you part ways, and get the privilege of coparenting a beautiful child.“ Aziraphale states calmly. “ But it is better to have loved and lost, than to force either of you to live a lie.“

“But I’ve been living a lie most of my life.“ Anathema hangs her head, obvious exhaustion setting into her body and soul.

“Then it’s high time you stop.“ Aziraphale says gently but with passion. “I spent 6000 years forcing myself to conform into someone I’m not, for the happiness of other people. When what I should’ve done was accept the one being who loves me for who I am all along.“ He strokes at the gold band on his finger. “Thank Someone, I finally came to my senses.“

Aziraphale stands. Moving to the sofa cushion next to Anathema, he takes her hand in his. “Newton will either love you how you truly are, or leave so that the person you need and who needs you can find you.“ He points to Arilla. “May I?”

Anathema nods, handing him the child. “Thank you both so much.”

“My pleasure dear.“ Aziraphale settles once again into the wing back chair. “Why don’t you stretch out on that sofa and sleep. You look exhausted.“

* * *

Aziraphale had miracled a playpen into existence, and had lain baby Arilla inside. He’s spent the last 40 minutes working through the daily crossword of his newspaper.

The angel smiles, as the sounds of Queen grow louder indicating the approach of the Bentley and Crowley’s return.

“Anathema.“ Aziraphale stage whispers, causing the young mother to stir. “My dear, I think you need to step outside and tell my husband to hurry in. Someone is out there with him, with whom I believe it’s imperative that you speak.“

”Wha?” Anathema pulls her fingers through her hair, and reaches to retrieve her thick rimmed glasses from the coffee table.

“Newton’s outside waiting to speak with you.“ Aziraphale urges her gently.

“Oh.“ Anathema stands, smoothing her hands over her dress. “He is? Okay. Yeah.“

Crowley enters through the foyer as Anathema exits. He squeezes her arm before whispering. “This will all work out.“

She nods patting his hand and continues out the door.

The two man shaped beings watch her leave. Crowley saunters across the sitting room and throws himself over the sofa.

“You’re such a softie.” Aziraphale teases, smiling at his demon.

“Shut it.“ Crowley growls playfully. There’s never any real heat behind his argument about being nice these days. Aziraphale likes it when Crowley is nice, and Crowley likes for Aziraphale to be happy. “Just hope he’s able to have a coherent conversation after that ride. He was near passing out a few times there.“

“Yes.“ The angel looks back down in his paper. “Leave it to you to waste no extra time in resolving this matter.“

”Yup.” Crowley glances to the playpen as the baby wakes with a cry. Shushing her he lifts the little one into his arms and searches about the room. “She needs changed, any clue where Anathema left the diaper bag?”

“It’s in the corner, love.“ Aziraphale adores the gentleness of his demon and how free Crowley finally is to be himself. They both had been forced to pretend for much too long, which only resulted in years of regret. The last thing either of them want is for their friends to face those same fears and regrets alone.

When Anathema and Newt enter the cottage, hand in hand, fifteen minutes have passed. Aziraphale and Crowley have moved to a blanket on the floor, eliciting fits of giggles from the child nestled between them.

“All good?“ Crowley smiles at them. He stands, lifting the baby and Aziraphale with him.

“All good.“ Anathema nods. Newt releases her hand, stepping toward the supernatural couple and his daughter.

“I wish she had told me sooner.“ The young man bounces the baby in his arms. “I went 23 years not having sex before I met her. As long as I have her and our daughter, that’s all I need.“

“I can’t believe how easy it was to tell him, and the both of you.“ Anathema walks to Newt and wraps him in a hug.

Aziraphale takes Crowley’s hand in his own and smiles. “Before all else, we must be true ourselves. Those who love you, in whatever capacity they love, will accept you fully and unconditionally as you are.“

”Yup.” Crowley gives his angel’s hand a quick squeeze. “Anyone who doesn’t can sod right off.“


End file.
